Something Wicked
by Shigatsu-Writer
Summary: Set before the game-plot takes place. Dante takes a job that just might be a lot of fun, intending to get a new wall-trophy. Hopefully, it won't be HIS head that ends up speared to the wall. Chapter Six is up now!
1. Trophy-huntin'

I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock ringing. Irritated, I fumbled for the "snooze" button unsuccessfully until I remembered that I didn't HAVE an alarm clock. This realization was enough to bring me back to coherence, mostly. It was the phone ringing; I had fallen asleep at my desk again.  
  
"Devil May Cry," I growled into the receiver, voice rough. If this was another damned crank call, someone was gonna PAY…  
  
"Um, hello?" The voice on the other end was nervous and male. "Is this Devil May Cry?"  
  
"S'what I said," I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes. Fuck, my head hurt. Went a little too heavy on the beers last night, Dante, I reflected.  
  
"I, um, I don't know much about this, but, well…"  
  
I was losing my patience. Not that I have a lot to lose, mind you. "Look, we're closed. Sorry." I started to hang up.  
  
"Wait!" said the nervous voice, going up a few notches until it was almost a squeak. "I have the password! They said you needed one."  
  
I paused. "Go ahead," I said after a moment.  
  
"Entropy," he said.  
  
Well, hot damn! I immediately went into Business Mode. It'd been weeks since I'd seen any real action, and my trigger fingers were getting itchy in the worst way. I started to grin, and he could probably hear it in my voice as I said, "Well, what can I do for you, Mr.…?"  
  
"Daykin," he said. "My name is Aldous Daykin, and I have a problem… with demons."  
  
Well, duh. My grin widened further. It wasn't like people called me when their refrigerators broke down.  
  
I leaned back in my chair, pulling Ebony out of its holster at my hip almost without thinking about it. I twirled the handgun around one finger absently. "Tell me all about it," I ordered, happy visions of flashing guns and slashing swords filling my mind.  
  
***************************  
  
The client, Mr. Aldous Daykin, was a housing developer with a lot of money on the line with his latest project, some condo out on the edge of town. Construction had been going swimmingly, he'd told me, until a few weeks ago, when workers had begun spotting shadowy somethings lurking around the site.  
  
And then the attacks had begun.  
  
Laborers were getting mauled in a bad way. At first everyone had assumed it was a mountain lion; there were still a few here and there, roaming the still undeveloped area around the construction site. Animal control had been called, but of course, they found nothing. And then attack survivors had started babbling about dark things with glowing eyes, and Mr. Daykin was beginning to have trouble keeping the mountain lion cover story intact. But he couldn't call the police; if word got out that supernatural nasties were eating his workers, he'd lose his funding and no one would want to move into the place. He'd be financially ruined.  
  
So he'd started making inquiries, and spreading some money around got him my name and the password. What he needed was a nice, discreet person to handle his little PR problem.  
  
Unfortunately, what he got was me. And "discreet" ain't exactly part of my modus operandi. But I was the best in this business, and he wanted this taken care of yesterday, so he was going to have to take a few risks.  
  
I grinned to myself as I disassembled Ivory for a cleaning it didn't actually need. Ebony sat on the desk, gleaming darkly. "Hear that?" I asked them. "Looks like we're in for some fun. I know you guys were getting bored, cooped up in here for so long."  
  
Yeah, I talk to my guns. Maybe that sounds a little crazy. Fuck you.  
  
I glanced up at my walls, surveying the satisfying display of carnage that was the closest thing to interior decorating I wanted. Some people mounted deer and elk heads on their walls. Me, I had demons. Most of them had still been bleeding when I'd tacked them to the wood with whatever came in handy—swords, knives, crossbow bolts. One particularly vicious-looking horned thing was actually stuck to the wall with a couple of railroad spikes. Hey, you make do with what you've got.  
  
I wondered if this job would give me a chance to add to my little trophy collection. I could only hope so. Nothing like bagging another prize to make a man feel like a man. 


	2. Patience is a Virtue

Aldous Daykin turned out to look exactly like he sounded-- small,  
  
trembly, and annoying. His dirty blond hair was plastered to his head  
  
with too much gel, and he wore too much cologne. His wire-framed glasses  
  
made a desperate stab at scholarly elitism and failed completely.  
  
"Thank God you're here," he said as I stalked up the half-finished dirt  
  
driveway toward him. His hands motioned nervously, as if he waned to be  
  
wringing them. "You, uh, are Dante, aren't you?"  
  
I snorted. Who did he think I was, the cable guy? "Yeah," I said. "So,  
  
this is the place." I glanced around at the skeletal buildings and the  
  
naked, plowed-up dirt. "Didn't this used to be a small forest before you  
  
got to it?" The only trees left huddled miserably behind the farthest  
  
incomplete condo.  
  
He sniffed, raising his pointed nose in the air, as if I'd just said  
  
something to reveal my plebian roots and it had offended his  
  
sensibilities.  
  
I resisted the urge to slap him. Just barely.  
  
"I have a great deal at stake here, Mr. Dante. If this situation isn't  
  
resolved quickly--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah." I waved a hand to shut him up. Like I gave a damn about  
  
his financial status. "Let's get down to business. Have you assembled  
  
any reports?"  
  
He looked blank, his muddy brown eyes blinking rapidly behind his  
  
glasses. "Reports?"  
  
"Yeah, reports. You know, eyewitness accounts of the creature, where it  
  
was first spotted, stuff like that." There was a long silence. "You  
  
didn't even do that, did you?"  
  
He looked irritated. "Mr. Dante, I assumed when I called you that you  
  
would be able to handle this situation."  
  
Oh, he was pushin' it. I grinned at him and told myself that feeding him  
  
the barrel of one of my guns would be a bad idea. I took a few steps  
  
closer, towering over him, and said, "I'm the best there is in this  
  
business, Mr. Daykin. You'd do well to remember that."  
  
He looked a little pale, but I gave him extra credit points for not  
  
stepping back. Maybe he had a backbone after all.  
  
"Um. Well. I can show you where the first attack occurred," he said.  
  
I nodded, eyes narrowed, enjoying his discomfort. "Why don't you do  
  
that?"  
  
*************  
  
"This is where we found Manuel after the attack," Daykin was saying.  
  
We were behind the last condo, not far from the undemolished cluster of  
  
trees. If you faced away from the buildings and squinted, you could  
  
almost pretend it was still a forest. Almost.  
  
"How long did it last?" I asked. "Did you find him immediately after the  
  
attack?"  
  
"Some of the other workers heard him scream and came running," Daykin  
  
replied.  
  
"That fast, huh." I scanned the woods, though what I was looking for I  
  
didn't know.  
  
Daykin went on. "He was torn open, or so I hear. I wasn't on scene at  
  
the time. An ambulance was called, and the paramedics were told it had  
  
been a wild animal attack. No one knew what else could have done so much  
  
damage to him."  
  
"How bad was it?"  
  
"The man was nearly disemboweled."  
  
I nodded grimly. "Humans don't hold up well against demonic beasts." As  
  
an afterthought I asked, "Did he live?"  
  
"Yes, but he's still in the hospital with serious complications. He  
  
hasn't regained conciousness yet."  
  
I knelt down, examining the dirt. No tracks, but that didn't mean  
  
anything; a supernatural creature wouldn't necessarily leave a trail.  
  
However, there weren't any signs of a struggle at all. The dirt looked  
  
swept clean.  
  
I looked up at Daykin. "Did somebody clean up after the attack?"  
  
He looked surprised by the question. "Well, of course. We couldn't just  
  
leave the... the blood lying there. Since we thought it was an animal,  
  
there was no need to preserve evidence."  
  
Damn. I let out a sigh and rocked back on my heels. I patted my  
  
holstered guns. "Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way,  
  
boys."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Huh?" Oh, I'd been talking aloud. "Nothing," I said. I stood up. "Are  
  
there any eyewitnesses? People who saw the thing and can still tell me  
  
about it?"  
  
"Um, not anyone who saw it directly," he admitted. "The men have been talking about seeing things in the shadows, but until the attacks started I assumed they were imagining things."  
  
Yep. This was gonna have to be done the hard way. "What time of day did the attacks take place? Was there a pattern?"  
  
He thought about it for a moment. "Now that you mention it, I believe all the incidents occurred around sundown."  
  
Sundown, eh? I looked up at the bright spring sky. It was about three hours to sundown. Perfect. I had enough time to go back and grab my sword, and even pop a TV dinner in the microwave. I started toward the driveway.  
  
"Where are you going?" Daykin squeaked.  
  
"Getting my hunting gear," I said without turning around. "I'll be back out here by sundown. I'll stay the night, and if the thing doesn't show up, we'll try again tomorrow. And in the meantime, there's a microwave dinner with my name on it waiting for me to get home."  
  
***  
  
By the time I got back to the construction site, the wind had picked up and the pleasant spring weather had decided to turn nasty. It looked like we were in for rain, maybe even a thunderstorm. Great. Just fuckin' peachy.  
  
Daykin wasn't there; I was relieved. I didn't need the scrawny little dork running around and getting in my way. Maybe he'd decided to fully trust this to the professional.  
  
I made my way back to the last condo. It was still half-open on one side, naked wood frame exposed to the trees, which was perfect for me. I could sit inside and have some cover from the elements while I waited. Sure, I'm a big tough devil hunter, but even big tough devil hunters get wet and cold. We just don't complain about it aloud.  
  
I found a reasonably debris-free spot to park myself just as the rain broke outside. The roof wasn't completely finished, so water still dripped in determinedly. I found a tarp covering a stack of lumber, and it provided some protection. I hunkered down to wait.  
  
This was always the hardest part, the part I hated the most. I'm not a patient guy. I prefer to go in guns blazing, so to speak. Sitting on my ass waiting for the monster to come just wasn't my style, but in this case what could I do?  
  
I patted my guns. "Just be patient, guys. We'll get to have some fun soon. I can feel it in my bones." 


	3. First Encounter

I sat and stared out at the sheets of silver rain, and I reflected on how very, very bored I was.  
  
Two hours, and all I'd gotten for my damn trouble so far was a chill. And my ass was going numb. As far as I could tell, there wasn't even so much as a weak ghost out here, let alone a man-eating demon. What if it actually WAS a mountain lion? I was going to feel pretty stupid, in that case. And then that little twit Daykin was going to get a close-up view of my boot sole for sending me on a wild goose chase...  
  
Wait. What the hell had that noise been? I froze, straining to hear over the sound of the rain, but whatever it was, it didn't repeat itself. Was I getting paranoid?  
  
Hell yes. You don't live long in this business if you're NOT paranoid.  
  
I stood up, letting the tarp fall at my feet as I unholstered Ebony and Ivory. The guns felt good in my hands, heavy and smooth and reassuring in their death-dealing abilities. I walked toward the open wall, eyes scanning to minimal effect. My night vision is good, better than a normal human's, but in the darkness AND the pouring rain, it wasn't helping much. Maybe I should've brought a flashlight, I reflected.  
  
I stood at the edge of the condo's floor, trying to stare out into the woods. The wind whipped at my hair and drove the stinging, ice-cold rain against my skin, down the back of my jacket. I ignored it and squinted at the trees. I saw nothing, heard nothing.  
  
Dammit, this was getting stupid. If something didn't show up soon, I was gonna call it a night and head back home to my TV dinners and maybe a Playboy magazine--  
  
"AWF!" Without warning, I was on my face, kissing mud. Something absurdly heavy was on my back, and it was tearing into me like nobody's business. My short red leather jacket was shredded like Kleenex, and then it started to do the same to my flesh underneath.  
  
"FUCK!" I bucked, hard, and the thing gave an ear-splitting metal-on-metal shriek as I threw it off my back. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the pain and the feel of blood oozing down my spine. I'd heal momentarily. I had to make sure that the monster would not.  
  
I scanned the immediate area quickly-- where had the thing gone? So far I hadn't even gotten a look at it. It was unbelievably fast. I hadn't even had time to sense it coming.  
  
There-- movement on my right. I started shooting before it even came into view, and I was rewarded with another of those awful shrieks. Unfortunately, the bullets didn't actually STOP it. It leapt at me, and I only barely rolled out of the way in time. It passed close enough that I could smell it, a scent like iron and rotting meat.  
  
I was back on my feet and aiming with the guns. The creature-- it was four- legged and vaguely feline-shaped, but it was too dark to tell more-- had leapt a good forty feet or more and was now crouched on the partially- finished condo roof. I had long enough to catch a glimpse of flashing yellow eyes, and then it was gone.  
  
Just... gone. Like smoke, dissolved into thin air. I cast about wildly, expecting another attack from a different angle, but nothing came. Aside from the patter of the rain and the sound of my own breathing, there was no noise.  
  
"Well, shit," I grumbled after a long five minutes of standing completely still with nothing happening. "This ain't a promising start."  
  
One jump had me balancing precariously on the roof where the thing had perched minutes ago. I knelt down, looking for... something. Blood? Claw marks? A dropped wallet with ID and credit cards?  
  
There was nothing to find. It was like it had never been there at all.  
  
I sighed and turned my face up to the rain. My back had healed over by now, but my jacket was ruined, almost torn in two. I took a moment to be royally pissed about that-- it had been a really expensive jacket.  
  
"Just you wait," I hissed. "I am personally gonna tear your head off your body with my BARE HANDS..."  
  
I jumped down. There was nothing more to do here, not now. Besides, I had hot coffee, dry clothes, and naked women printed on glossy paper waiting at home. It was time to call it a night.  
  
**************  
  
"What do you MEAN you didn't catch it?"  
  
Aldous Daykin's voice had risen to registers high enough to shatter glass, and the only reason I was able to restrain myself from slapping the shit out of him was that he wasn't right in front of me at the moment.  
  
"Just like I SAID," I growled into the phone, "it got away. Ran off after it figured out I wasn't going to be just another Happy Meal."  
  
It was the morning after, and the sun was shining obnoxiously bright through my ragged window blinds, as if to taunt me. It was before noon, I hadn't had any coffee yet, and now Daykin was bitching at me in a voice only slightly less cringe-inducing than the shrieks of the creature last night. The day wasn't starting out well at all.  
  
"Mr. Dante, are you or are you not competent to complete this job? I hired you on the assumption that you were the best there was. Have I made an incorrect assumption?"  
  
I gritted my teeth as I imagined sueezing Daykin's pencil-neck until it snapped like a dry twig. There's nothing worse than being talked down to by someone you could break over your knee with a minimum of effort. Especially when you're ALREADY feeling maybe slightly a little dumb for screwing up. I NEVER let a demon get away alive. And now one had. I was as pissed at myself as I was at Daykin.  
  
Well, almost.  
  
"Look, Daykin, I'll bag your little monster. None of your damned business how I do it. You just sit back and wait while I do the dirty work for you."  
  
"Well!" he huffed, sounding offended. Probably his hirelings didn't talk to him like that much. Too bad.  
  
"I'm going back out to the site this afternoon," I went on, as if his interjection hadn't happened. "You just stay out of my way, got it?"  
  
He started to make high-pitched spluttering noises, and I wasn't in the mood to hear another screechy reprimand. So I hung up on him. It made me feel just a little better.  
  
With a weary sigh I got up and went into the kitchenette, ready to pour myself some much-deserved coffee. Unfortunately, I'd run out of clean cups. The counter and sink were littered with mugs, and most of them had by now developed thick greenish layers of fuzz on the bottom. Even by MY high standards, that was a little gross. I pondered the coffee for a minute, wondering if I could just drink it straight from the pot, but I decided against it.  
  
So. It was either do the dishes, or go without caffeine.  
  
"Fuck it," I snarled, heading for the door. I was going to Dunkin' Donuts.Â  Â  


	4. Don't Ask

After picking up a dozen chocolate glazed donuts and a large coffee (black, the way us manly men are supposed to drink it), I felt alert enough to head back to the condos.  
  
It was one of those happy, sunshiny days in spring, full of flowers and warm breezes and butterflies and stuff. It seemed almost absurd, if you thought about it, to go hunting demons on a day like today. The weather had been like this for several weeks, now. I wondered how many men had been eaten while enjoying the happy sunshine.  
  
I turned down the winding road that led to the construction site, and the tacky little hula girl on my car's dashboard did her little dance. Afternoon sun filtered through the trees on either side of the road.  
  
I wasn't sure what I would find at the site today. I was pretty sure there wouldn't be any evidence left behind that I'd missed, but I honestly didn't know what else to do. If only they made mousetraps big enough for demons…  
  
Something large and dark-colored dashed in front of the car.  
  
"Shit!" I slammed on the breaks, but it was too late; I hit whatever it was head-on. But rather than going over or under the car, the thing actually seemed to stand its ground; it was like hitting a fucking tree. The front end of the vehicle crumpled like a soda can, folding in on itself with the scream of stressed metal. My windshield webbed over with cracks, but the safety glass held and it didn't shatter in on me.  
  
I'd come to a stop. I checked myself over quickly; no injuries, other than a bruised feeling where the seatbelt had dug into my chest and abdomen. Not like I couldn't survive a car accident, but…  
  
I unhooked the seatbelt and started struggling with the door handle. What on earth had I hit?  
  
I didn't have long to wonder. The windshield shattered in a rain of glass, and a dark claw was suddenly there, raking around, searching for me. And finding me. I swore viciously and groped for my guns while simultaneously trying to get the damn door unstuck and trying to avoid having my chest peeled open like the skin on an orange. I wasn't having much success with any of them.  
  
There was no room to maneuver. Giving up on everything but the door for a moment, I swiveled as best I could, bringing one leg up to deliver a good, solid kick. The door flew off, and I was free. I dove out of the car, hit the pavement, and rolled, which hurt like a bitch since my chest was mostly lacerations. I rolled into a crouch and had my guns out in almost the same movement.  
  
In the daylight, the demon was a lot more awful to look at. Now that I could see it clearly, I could tell that it WAS a mountain lion—or had been, once upon a time. Now it looked like an autopsy gone horribly wrong. What skin it still had only just barely contained the dark, twitching mass of muscles and ligaments beneath. It was black, not like any natural color, but like it had rotted from the inside out. Even its long teeth and claws had turned black with decay.  
  
It stalked toward me, snarling. Its eyeless sockets glowed with sickly preternatural light.  
  
I aimed my guns at its head. "You are one UGLY motherfucker," I said, and then I opened fire.  
  
The demon winced, but kept coming. As far as I could tell, my bullets were doing shit-all to hurt it. No blood sprayed, no bones fragmented, it just kept coming. What the hell was this sucker made of?  
  
I saw its leg muscles coil and tense—it was about to spring. I reached for my sword, realized I'd left it in the car, and—  
  
Blaring horn, the sound of squealing brakes. I threw myself out of the way of the semi-truck just in time to avoid becoming a devil-hunter grease- splotch on the road. I watched, almost dispassionately, as the truck swerved wildly, just missing my own totaled car, and careened off into the ditch.  
  
I looked back at the road. The demon was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Great. Just wonder-fucking-ful. Could this day get ANY better?  
  
Another truck skidded around the corner, didn't hit the brakes in time, and slammed into my car full-force.  
  
My car exploded.  
  
Yeah. Okay. Sorry I asked. 


	5. Fringe Benefits

Some days, demon-hunting just isn't a rewarding job.  
  
Like today. What did I have to show for today's efforts? A smoldering pile of metal that had once been a serviceable car, and the tattered, blood- soaked remains of what had been a perfectly good shirt.  
  
Maybe I shoulda been a dental hygenist.  
  
I stomped into my office after bidding a fond farewell to the squad car that had dropped me off. Damn police had questioned me for HOURS. I guess they didn't buy my story about swerving to avoid a deer, but what the hell else could I have told them? "I'm sorry, officer, the massive auto accident wasn't MY fault, it was the big scary demon I plowed into while doing eighty down the road."  
  
And to make things even better, they'd commandeered my sword, which I'd JUST managed to yank out of the burning wreckage. It hadn't been damaged, but it sure wasn't going to do me a shitload of good sitting in the police station.  
  
I flopped down into my office chair with a frustrated growl. Okay, I could handle this. I had contacts on the force; I could call someone to work on getting my sword back. And I could always call the local Rent-A-Wreck and get a car for the time being. The situation wasn't in the toilet yet.  
  
That left me the demon itself to worry about.  
  
What I REALLY didn't like about all this was the obvious thought that had gone into it. There was just no way I could've run into the same demon by accident, so it had to have been an ambush. But did the thing have enough intelligence to actually plan something that complex?  
  
Judging by what I'd seen so far, the answer was no. And that left only one outcome: someone or something else was planning the attacks.  
  
Fuck. That meant that this wasn't going to be a simple extermination job at all. Even if I managed to kill the thing, it would be easy enough for its master to just send another demon in its place. And then another. And another, and so on. If I wanted to solve THIS one, I'd have to find the boss and put an end to HIM.  
  
I leaned back in my chair, trying to relax, and stiff muscles spasmed in protest. I growled and wished, not for the first time in my life, that popping a few aspirin would help, but thanks to my own demonic blood, I metabolized it too fast for it to be of any use whatsoever. Which meant, basically, that I had to tough it out like the big bad demon-slayer I was.  
  
There was one more problem to add some extra joy to my day: Daykin. The man was gonna be superbly pissed when he found out that I still hadn't cleaned up his little mess for him. Just thinking about it was giving me a migraine, so right then I swore to whatever god was listening that I would tear out his spine and beat him with it if he threw another hissy fit in my presence. Feeling marginally better, I got off my ass and went to rummage for dinner.  
  
Sadly, the Refrigerator Fairy hadn't seen fit to bless me while I was out-- the only thing in the fridge was a package of baloney that looked worse than most of the things I had impaled on my office walls. I sighed and put it back. Maybe takeout? But an assessment of my funds killed that plan-- I had about three bucks to my name. In change.  
  
"Well, shit," I muttered aloud. "What am I supposed to do, eat my boots?"  
  
Since none of the demon-heads had an opinion on the matter, I stopped talking out loud. Is it a bad sign when you talk to gory dead things like you expect an answer?  
  
Maybe I need to get out more.  
  
**********************************  
  
I'd checked the fridge three times, simply out of compulsive habit, but edible food had still failed to materialize. I figured it was about time to give up. Maybe a bag of chips from the gas station would hold me over for the time being.  
  
But Fate had other plans, apparently. I'd just reached for the doorknob when somebody knocked.  
  
Open, or don't open it? I wished I had one of those little peephole-things so that I could tell who was outside. If it was Daykin, I did NOT want to be here. I'd seen the inside of the police station once already today, and I didn't want to get hauled back there again after I snapped his pencil- neck.  
  
"Hello?" called a female voice. "Is anyone there?"  
  
Well, hot damn! It wasn't Daykin. I opened the door.  
  
At first I thought I was seeing things. Dante, man, you have been watching WAY too much late-night Cinemax. But after blinking a few times, I realized that my eyes weren't playing tricks after all, and the girl in front of me was real.  
  
She was small and dark-skinned and lovely. Waist-length black hair framed one of those heart-shaped faces, and her eyes were wide and subtly slanted. She wore a short red sundress and had the kind of curves that just seem to beg for your attention.  
  
She was certainly getting MINE.  
  
"Um, are you Dante?" she asked.  
  
Even if I hadn't been me, I'd have said I was. Trying not to grin like a moron, I cleared my throat and went for my normal "stone-cold" expression. "That's me, babe. Who wants to know?"  
  
"Um," she fiddled with her purse, eyes coquettishly downcast. "I'd rather not talk outside like this. May I please come in?" Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.  
  
I shrugged. "Whatever." I stood back, opening the door wider so she could step through.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Dante." She brushed past me, and I smelled jasmine and sandalwood.  
  
I closed the door, then turned back to her. "What can I do for you, Miss.?" I left a blank for her to fill in her name.  
  
She'd frozen in place, with her back turned to me. "Oh," she said, sounding frightened.  
  
I realized she was staring at my trophy collection. Oops.  
  
"Don't worry," I said, "they don't bite. Not anymore, anyway."  
  
She turned to face me, clutching at her purse like it would protect her if any of the nasties jumped down from the wall and tried to eat her. "My name is Ophelia," she said, her eyes very wide.  
  
I waited for a last name, and didn't get one. Huh. Well, if that's how she wanted to play it.  
  
"Okay, what did you want to say to me, Ophelia?" I crossed over to my desk and flopped into my chair, propping my feet up on the desk in a show of casual nonchalance. Never mind the fact that my eyes kept wandering back to her ample cleavage and my body was trying to remind me of how long it'd been since. Well, you know. Keep your mind on BUSINESS, Dante.  
  
"I need your help," she said, stepping closer to the desk. I absently noted the pleasing contrast of the red dress to her cinnamon-shaded skin. "I think someone is trying to kill me!"  
  
I looked up from her breasts as the last sentence hit me. "I ain't the police, lady. I'm just a bounty hunter."  
  
She shook her head. "The police can't help me, because there's no proof. The person who's trying to kill me is doing it with demons!"  
  
A summoner? Fuck, if someone was actually calling demons into this world, I DID need to know about it. I sat up, leaning forward, and said, "Tell me all about it, Ophelia."  
  
She leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk, so I got an eyeful of everything down the front of her dress.  
  
Okay. So maybe demon-hunting is a pretty rewarding job, after all. 


	6. Payment Program

Confronted with the lack of seating in my office, Ophelia had finally opted to perch on the corner of my desk. Since this gave me an excellent view of her legs and the shapely curve of her rear, I let her do it. I sat back in my chair and mostly just pretended to listen as she told me her tragic story, letting my ears pick out the important bits as she talked.  
  
"Demons. uh-huh. jealous sister. three attacks. go on." I made sure to make the appropriate "I'm listening" noises. Chicks dig a guy who listens.  
  
"So you see," she concluded, finally, "I need your help." She put one hand on my arm, and if it had been anyone else, I'd have shaken her off. I'm just not into casual touchy-feely shit. "I can pay you."  
  
Feeling generous, I named a reasonable price.  
  
Her chocolate eyes went wide, and her red-lipsticked mouth formed a little "o" of surprise. "That much?"  
  
"That was the retainer fee," I said, a little annoyed. "You pay that part up front, then the rest later." If I hadn't been in the middle of another case at the moment, I'd've been tempted to just take the job for free. But hell, even big bad demon hunters have to eat sometimes, and right now I was BROKE.  
  
"I. I don't know if I can get that much," she said, voice gone all quivery. Shit, I hoped she wasn't going to cry. I HATE it when women cry.  
  
"Well, look, if you can just come up with the retainer fee, I might be able to waive the completion charge," I said. It was a generous offer, a WILDLY generous offer. I was already willing to work for what amounted to peanuts in this business, and I'd just gone and halved it. Yeah, that's me, Dante the Bargain Hunter.  
  
"I. not right away," she said. "It'll take me a while to get so much. But. but maybe I can repay you in other ways." She slid across the desk, until she was practically sitting in my arms. One delicate hand came up to run fingers through my hair, and the other hand started playing with the buttons on my shirt. "Is there any other way I can pay you, Mr. Dante?" She lowered her eyelids to peer up at me through her lashes.  
  
Holy shit, talk about temptation.  
  
"I, uh." was my clever response.  
  
She cut off my blinding wit with a kiss. Her lips were so soft and warm. the back of my mind noted absently that her lipstick was flavored. Mm, vanilla.  
  
She started to unbutton my shirt.  
  
Whoa, hold on! I broke this kiss (albeit reluctantly) and sat back, putting a little distance between us. For a moment I just focused on breathing, and on getting my hormones back under control.  
  
"What's wrong?" She looked hurt, like a kicked puppy. "Don't you. don't you want me?"  
  
That was the problem. I DID want her, and bad. But hell, I'd just MET her. I wasn't about to screw her on top of my office desk after fifteen minutes of conversation. Even if she did have the nicest pair of-  
  
Okay, Dante. Get back on track.  
  
I shook my head. "Look, Ophelia, you're a beautiful girl, but I don't run my business that way. I can't exactly put 'sexual favors' on my tax records, can I? I deal in cash only."  
  
Her eyes started to fill with tears. Oh, fuck.  
  
"Alright, al-fucking-right, I'll HELP you!" I said. "Don't worry about the goddamn money." I crossed my arms angrily. "I'll look into your problem, but I'm busy with another case right now, so I make no guarantees."  
  
The tears vanished immediately, and to my surprise she threw her arms around my neck, hugging me fiercely. I tried not to notice that her breasts were pressed against me in the process.  
  
"Thank you so much, Mr. Dante!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, get off me already." It's almost impossible to look badassed when someone is hugging you.  
  
She pulled back just a bit, and then she kissed me again-this time it was a deeper kiss, naughtier, with tongue even. I was just about to forget my earlier admonition against first-time-meeting office-sex when she pulled away and slid off the desk.  
  
"I promise I'll pay you back, one way or another," she said, eyes dancing. Opening her purse, she withdrew a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a photograph of a woman who looked like a slightly younger, shorter- haired version of Ophelia. "This is Titania, my sister. I know she's the one who's been sending the demons after me." Rummaging in her purse again, she withdrew another paper. This one turned out to be some sort of club flyer, although it advertised little more than the address and the club's name, Midsummer Night's Dream. It wasn't anyplace I had heard of. "This is the club where she usually hangs out," Ophelia explained.  
  
"Alright," I managed to say, still a little disoriented from the kiss. "I'll check it out."  
  
Ophelia giggled. "I'm staying at the Riverwalk View Hotel, room 830. Stop by anytime you like." And with that, she walked out the door.  
  
I stared after her, still tasting the last hint of vanilla on my lips.  
  
Gods above, I am SUCH a sucker. 


End file.
